


Not Your Regular Date Doctor

by Artemis1000



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Crack, Dealing with Kylo's shit is turning Phasma into a cynical wine mom, F/M, I promise, Phasma POV, Relationship Advice, Women Being Awesome, next time I write Reylo there will be actual Reylo interaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-05-31 17:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6480190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis1000/pseuds/Artemis1000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Phasma hadn’t had the heart to tell him that women didn’t have a secret magical hive mind.”</p><p>Or: Captain Phasma doesn’t know how she got roped into being Kylo Ren’s date doctor, but she wishes it would stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Don't Pay Enough For This

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Crack. Unabashed crack. You have been warned.
> 
> This started with my dear evil friend noting that Phasma is the only woman around Kylo. Thus came the realisation she is his sole source for advice of the "what do women want?" flavour. The rest is history. Poor Phasma. I am so sorry. You deserve better.

Such thoughts were certainly treasonous, but there were times when Captain Phasma wished Kylo Ren would get himself redeemed already.

It had little to do with wishing him saved, and everything with wishing him to just _shut up_. Or complain to someone else. Wasn’t that what men had a mother for?

She still remembered the first time Kylo Ren had held her back after a meeting, ordering her to follow him and taking her to his favorite training room, where she had half expected to become the subject of his mind trick experiments.

What followed had been so much worse.

He had looked at her, mask ripped off and naked face looking haunted and pained, and asked in a more plaintive voice than she would have thought their fearsome dark Jedi capable of, “why does she keep refusing me?”

She. Kylo’s scavenger.

It wasn’t until their third talk that Phasma learned why she had been dragged into this mess. Turned out she was the closest to a female friend Ren had, and as such she was his obvious choice for feminine advice. She had been pleased that he didn’t think her less of a woman for being a soldier, like so many other men did, and hadn’t had the heart to tell him that women didn’t have a secret magical hive mind. There was an alien species in Wild Space that lived by a very wise saying: no good deed ever goes unpunished. The following months would prove it right.

It didn’t take months, only took minutes for Phasma to gather that Ren had no idea how to go about winning a woman’s heart, though it took her much longer to figure out that Ren wanted the woman to be more than another Knight. It was far too outlandish to consider, Kylo Ren having a love life. Kylo Ren wooing a girl. It sounded like the beginning of a bawdy Stormtrooper joke.

“You might want to refrain from killing her, Lord Ren,” she had said wryly.

The look she got was utterly wounded. “I’ve never tried to kill her! I want to teach her, I can’t teach her if she’s dead!”

“Of course not, Lord Ren,” Phasma had said crisply, and been glad for her helmet. “But does she know that?”

There was a long, pointed silence, and she could have sworn she felt the gears turn in Kylo Ren’s mind. Unlike General Hux, Phasma had never thought of Ren as stupid, or even particularly foolish. She had seen stupid men succeed by virtue of sheer brutality, and Ren wasn’t one of them. Turned out he was just _incredibly dense_ in matters of the heart.

“I didn’t kill her traitor friend on Starkiller Base,” he ventured tentatively.

Underneath the helmet, Phasma bit down on her bottom lip so hard that she wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d drawn blood. It was incredibly hard to keep yourself even from _thinking_ snarky thoughts, but with Ren you always got the vibe that he knew. “I’m sure she appreciates that,” she intoned solemnly.

Ren dropped onto his training mat, shoulders slumped and head bowed amidst a sea of black fabric. The very picture of dejection.

When he remained quiet for long, tense minutes, Phasma had snapped to attention and briskly said, “I’m not quite sure how I can help you, sir.”

He had stayed motionless for another few seconds, as if he hadn’t heard her at all, and then he’d suddenly leapt up, face twisting into rage as he bellowed, “you can’t! You’re useless! Get out of here if you’re no help!”

After said third talk, she had reviewed her memories of the first one and realized he had been blushing. That, too, had been too outlandish to consider at the time.

Now she let her gaze stray to the woods lining the battle site of this fight between First Order and Resistance forces. Ren’s fight with Rey had taken him somewhere into the woods. Phasma wasn’t particularly worried, he was capable, and with the sheer number of times they had battled without doing another serious harm, Phasma suspected Rey had no more interest in harming him than he had in hurting her.

She hoped this meant the scavenger-turned-Jedi was warming up to Kylo. Phasma’s stash of Corellian whiskey was running dangerously low.

The rebels retreated, thwarted, and Phasma managed to catch a trip back on Ren’s Command Shuttle.

It didn’t take more than one look at the body language of this pest of a man who had somehow become her friend. Phasma sat down next to him. “So… no luck?”

He looked about as forlorn as you could look wearing a mask. “She hates me.”

Secretly, Phasma agreed that this was still a distinct possibility, lack of any serious harm done aside. Or she might just not be interested. Kylo kept telling her they had a special connection, but it could be wishful thinking. Phasma had never seen them together, she couldn’t tell.

She gave him a friendly slap on the back, which was as close to being affectionate as she would permit in public. “I’m sure she doesn’t.”

Kylo remained sullen and sad, and Phasma mentally changed her schedule to include a moping session, and some alone time afterwards with her Corellian whiskey.

Sometimes Captain Phasma really wished Kylo Ren would hurry up and get himself redeemed already.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch the token Star Trek reference and you get a cookie.
> 
> I haven't decided yet if this is a one-shot, or just the beginning of Phasma's headache.


	2. It's Time For Some Real Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phasma talks to Rey.
> 
> The conclusion: Kylo Ren is an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to everyone who commented and sent kudos! Your encouragement means so much to me. You're all wonderful people. 
> 
> The idea to have Phasma and Rey talk was suggested by my lovely reviewer on FF Net, BenRG. Phasma ended up not quite begging Rey to take him off her hands, but she's certainly wishing for it! 
> 
> So this chapter is actually less cracky than the first one, sorry for that. But I started writing and realized I had far too much fun with Rey and Phasma ~~must write fic just about the gals~~

Three months later, Phasma’s stock of contraband Corellian whiskey had run dry – twice – and Kylo Ren was no closer to winning his girl’s heart.

Why, it looked like he had figured out how to unlearn even the few social graces he possessed, for the last time they fought, he’d returned with his side slashed up quite nastily.

He had refused to tell Phasma the tale, but lightsaber wounds were distinctive and she could piece the rest together. It was an alarming sign if there were any. Rey hadn’t caused him serious injury since Starkiller Base.

Something had to give.

And sometimes when you asked nicely, the universe would provide.

“Leave me alone with the prisoner,” Phasma ordered as she stalked into the tiny, dingy prison tract of a First Order outpost so unimportant that the planetoid didn’t even have a name. “And shut off the surveillance equipment.” She felt the tiniest twitch in the trooper’s steps, announcing a protest to follow. “The General would be displeased if details of highly confidential interrogations fall into the hands of simple Stormtroopers.”

Yes, she knew it was against regulation, and yes, it was unprofessional, but this had to end before both General Hux and her lost their minds.

Ren had somehow convinced the Supreme Leader that Rey shouldn’t be harmed; more talk of recruiting her for the Knights of Ren, Phasma assumed. As if the woman would bend under pressure when she had refused to come willingly.

She stopped outside the Force Cell, finally getting a good look at the young woman Ren had been waxing about for months. He had spoken of her willpower and her fierceness, that she was proud and courageous even while terrified, and between the lines Phasma had read that she thought less of herself than Ren did.

He had never mentioned that the young woman was quite so scruffy-looking.

She leapt up from her cot and right to the cell bars, getting as close as she dared and far closer than was wise. She snarled like something feral. Her knuckles were bloodied and bruised, while a patch of dark-red gave away her wounded leg. She hadn’t come easily. Honestly, Phasma was still half convinced that she had let herself be captured for some nefarious reason. In the real world, luck only ever smiled on the other side.

“Rey of Jakku.”

“I’m not telling you anything!” Ren’s scavenger spat. Her lips pressed together into a thin line. “You may as well kill me. I won’t break, and I won’t turn.”

Beneath the helmet, Phasma’s brows rose. Well, she had always known that Ren was an odd duck. Maybe he liked flirting with danger far more than she had realized.

“Gladly,” Phasma replied dryly, “but Kylo Ren will arrive later today, and he made clear that you are not to be harmed.”

The younger woman’s face crumpled momentarily, before the snarl returned fiercer than before. “I don’t want to see him.” Her chin lifted up. “I’ve got nothing left to say to him.”

Well. This explained Ren’s stomach wound.

“You don’t need to speak to him.” Rey’s eyes narrowed. Phasma didn’t give her an opportunity to protest. “But you will listen to me.”

“Ren…” Rey seemed curious enough to fall quiet, but suddenly Phasma wasn’t so sure anymore what to say. Or what she could say. She was certain Ren wouldn’t want anyone to know he had confided in her. And she was almost, but not quite certain that she didn’t care anymore what Ren wanted. He needed an intervention.

“I realize that your interpersonal relations with Kylo Ren are complicated and none of my business,” Phasma began stiffly. Kriff, she hadn’t been trained for this. _No training manual ever_ had covered this.

“You’re Captain Phasma. I know Kylo talked to you about us,” Rey interjected. She didn’t sound feral anymore. Wary, but no longer quite so angry.

Phasma took special note of the _us_. Maybe Ren wasn’t quite as deluded as she had come to believe.

“Maybe he has also mentioned that he made a fool of himself over you. Life on the Finalizer has become near unbearable due to his lovesick little moods.”

The Jedi tilted her head, nose slightly scrunched. “Has it?” Her voice was light. She returned to her cot, perching down on the edge of it leaning forward, elbows propped up on her thighs. Her intense scrutiny reminded Phasma of Millicent.

Somehow, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. “I’ve spent so many hours listening to Kylo talk about you, it feels like I know you already,” Phasma remarked. It felt right to take off her helmet. She recalled Kylo mentioning that Rey called him a creature in a mask when they first met.

Rey looked thoughtful. “I have heard about you, too. But more from Finn than from Kylo. For that he wants me to join him, he doesn’t talk a lot about his life with the First Order.”

Phasma wasn’t surprised. It took time and patience to get Kylo to talk. Kylo claimed his girl knew a lot about waiting, but they only ever had stolen minutes. She wanted to ask what FN-2187 had said, if he ever spoke of what had been before they became enemies, but forced these questions back down. It wouldn’t do to show she still cared for a traitor, even if he had been her best and brightest. He still was, just on the wrong side of the war.

Well, there was nothing to it, Phasma decided. She’d never been cowardly on the eve of battle.

Phasma let frustration bottled up and carefully nurtured over months bleed into her voice like she never would, under normal circumstances. Nothing involving Kylo Ren’s bizarre courtship could ever be called remotely normal. “I realize that the workings of the First Order don’t concern you,” she ground out, “but your _boyfriend_ ,” and it felt good to spit this with all the irritation the term deserved, “has been driving everyone crazy.”

Rey narrowed her eyes at Phasma, and Phasma narrowed hers right back. She wasn’t going to let some slip of a desert rat cow her into silence in her own cell block.

“I don’t know what he did, he refuses to say.” Phasma crossed her hands behind her back, close to standing at parade rest. “And I’m not asking you to take him back.”

Yes, yes, she was, actually. She needed the scavenger to take him back before Kylo shattered her sanity along with all the consoles and doors and walls he had hacked into pieces.

“What I am telling you,” Phasma said, tone of voice crisp so she could at least pretend she were still a professional soldier and hadn’t been dragged into Kylo Ren’s ridiculousness, “is that you need to make up your mind. This back and forth is untenable. And I’d really prefer you choose _before I murder your man_.”

Rey’s jaw worked for a while, she looked positively pained as she struggled to hold back words and emotions. Phasma waited, and was rewarded when Rey blurted out, “he tried to make me join him.” Her face hardened. “But he went too far this time. He threatened my friends.”

Phasma didn’t even try to stifle her groan. “I warned him. I told him that’s a bad idea, and he promised.” If Rey didn’t get there first, Phasma would wring his neck.

“I won’t be with someone who thinks it’s okay to say he’ll kill my best friends if I don’t give in to him.”

“Of course not,” Phasma agreed. “That was stupid of him.” Why, Phasma could tell after five minutes with his girl that it would never fly with her. She didn’t know what Twi’lek slave girl delusion Ren had been trying to live there, but if it wasn’t going to get his dick ripped off by Rey, Phasma would be doing the deed herself.

She had not wasted seven months of her life coaching Kylo through the most pathetic puppy crush in existence to watch him ruin it all out of sheer stupidity.

“If it helps, he convinced himself you want to change sides, and just need an excuse to let you overcome your moral qualms.”

Rey scrunched up her face as if she’d bitten into something vile. “That’s stupid!”

“I know. And so does he, but he _is_ stupid,” Phasma announced. “I wouldn’t want you joining. If we had two of you causing mayhem on the Finalizer I would never get any work done.” And it would shatter Kylo to watch Rey be broken in all the ways the Supreme Leader had broken him. Phasma had only started to see it after they became friends, but now she couldn’t unsee it.

Rey’s stubborn little chin went up again. “Well, I’m not giving him another chance. He’s refused to listen, and I’m done trying.”

Phasma stifled a long-suffering sigh. She might as well have been talking to Ren. She was starting to understand what he saw in Rey.

“Maybe you should tell him that. He doesn’t understand that a woman will only give you so many chances before she calls it done and shoots you.” Phasma shrugged her broad shoulders as much as she could in her armor. “Or maybe he doesn’t think he ever stood a chance at all. I don’t know. All I know is I’m done listening to him talk at me when he should be talking to you. I refuse to be his full-time babysitter any longer, and right now he needs two.”

“Hmm,” Rey huffed.

“Think about it.”

Rey stayed stubbornly silent, but Phasma had spent enough time with Kylo Ren to see the softening in her eyes.

It was the best she could ask for.

“Oh, Rey?” By the cell block’s door, Phasma paused and turned her head, giving the young woman another stern look. “Whatever sabotage you have planned… forget it. I’ve brought four additional squadrons of Stormtroopers, and I forgot to pass on the no-kill order.”

There was a tightness around the young woman’s eyes that betrayed her plans had been foiled, yet her lips twitched. Reluctant respect gleamed in her eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

Phasma snorted in amusement. “See that you do.”

Captain Phasma was just taking off when Kylo Ren’s Command Shuttle descended from the sky, hours ahead of schedule. He must have been piloting himself.

She wondered if she would ever again sit in his training room and try not to laugh at his earnest indignation over some imagined slight of Hux’s, or if her Corellian whiskey would suddenly no longer be running out too soon.

Phasma had thought she couldn’t wait for the day when Kylo Ren got himself redeemed, and would no longer be her problem. But maybe, she realized now, she would miss it. Just the tiniest bit, mind you, and certainly not if she got woken up at three in the night because some idiot was lightsabering the bridge.

She really ought to send a casket of Corellian whiskey to General Organa. Captain Phasma wished her the best of luck. She would need it.

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! I might end up writing more in this verse (that's why I left open whether Kylo actually manages to fix his mess) but for now I'm calling it complete. 
> 
> I just want the satisfaction of having completed a multi-chapter fic!


End file.
